Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“I never really… lived with someone as an adult. I suppose I wasn’t sure how to handle you after we argued.”
I hate that his inquisitive gaze makes me nervous. I don’t do nervous. And I don’t give others the power of information, but he’s such an open book I can’t help but be drawn in and spill some secrets of my own.
“Okay. Can we just try to find compromise in the future? And you’re not off the hook for the dexoshit. We are cuddling tonight. I’m putting my foot down.”
How could I possibly argue with this?
I mean, I could, but it would be unreasonable, considering he could have died today.
As the silence stretches, Dalton starts coughing again. “What if I need medical attention at night? You wouldn’t even know…” He gives me the most innocent pleading eyes, and for someone claiming not to play games, he’s playing this one quite well.
Because I want to lose.
“Fine. You can sleep in my bed, doggie,” I say, shaking my head despite excitement soaring in my veins as I imagine him under the covers, stretched alongside me, as if we belong together.
Which is embarrassingly whimsical, but he doesn’t need to know.
Chapter 13
Dalton
I’m surprised by just how gentle Corvus is with me on the way from the hospital. He asked the doctor who treated me detailed questions about my lungs and my burned hand. I don’t think they’re such a big deal. The hand will heal, and I’ll eventually cough up any remaining soot or whatever.
Still, it’s nice to be babied a little once in a while. I’ve been taking care of myself for thirty years with only blips of boyfriends who never stayed around long. But this man is my fiancé, and no matter how strange that is in the light of when and how we first met, I suppose that comes with certain privileges.
Corvus has the cab stop by one of those fancy delis that I’ve always found intimidating, and once he returns to the car with a bag of food, we’re headed straight home. It might be my imagination, but I can’t help feeling as if he’s trying to listen to my breathing without being too obvious about it.
The driver and I have a brief conversation about the excellent work of the NYC fire service, but Corvus keeps almost completely silent, his blue eyes dark as midnight sky. He’s kinda hot like that when he’s all broody and deadly looking.
When we stop in front of his house, he keeps close, as if I might need help with walking. It’s very silly, even if I do appreciate it.
“I told you, I’m fine. I mend well.”
“What does that even mean? The doctor told me to watch you, and he knows best. You won’t be arguing with me about this,” he says in the stern voice of some Victorian teacher. At least I’m not about to get smacked on the hands with a bamboo cane.
He holds my bicep and pulls, as if he truly believes I don’t have enough strength do this on my own. When we climb up the steps, he keeps his hand on the small of my back, and it’s weird how protected that makes me feel. I’m bigger than him, but he’s deadly in his own right, and I like that about him. That he’s not some dainty flower.
I shrug. “Means I got my share of cuts and punches over the years, and here I am, alive and well. Even survived this one crazy human hunting ground thanks to my wits and charm.” I wiggle my eyebrows at Corvus as we enter.
He stalls, eyes wide as he lets me through the door temporarily replacing the one the fire service has broken down. It’s already secured with thick steel bolts, as if Corvus is expecting a deadly break-in any day. That, or maybe he’s just that protective of all his expensive possessions. It’s not like I have a point of reference for any of that.
“That whole thing... I admit it’s regrettable,” he mutters, hanging up his coat and toeing off the shoes.
“What, the human hunt you Van der Horns have been doing for the past hundred years?” I quip.
He whips his head around, dead serious. “No. I just don’t believe you should have been a part of it in the first place. Someone made a mistake.”
This shouldn’t be funny, because my life was on the line back there, but maybe all the painkillers got me giddy. “A clerical error, nothing to worry about. I’ve been in my share of fights to the death.”
The interior looks almost normal. The floor is stained from the dirty snow that surely clung to the shoes of the people who saved me, and the air’s unpleasantly cold, as if all the windows were open with no regard for it being winter, but there are no soot stains in sight, and unless the kitchen itself is a complete mess, nothing seems to have changed. He leads me straight to the dining room and starts placing all the food on the table between us. There’s tea, and chicken soup. Seeing it makes me all warm inside before I even have any.